Guardian Angel
by MandraKara
Summary: The first time Lucifer hears of him he's just a simple absent-minded Scotsman by the name of Fergus Roderick MacLeod who can't actually sew worth a lick.


Yeah, this is actually a headcanon for an RP I'm part of. You can read it as Lucifer/Crowley, but you can also read it normally. You can also flame me and tell me that it's so out of character it isn't funny, if you need to. d:

* * *

The first time Lucifer hears of him he's just a simple absent-minded Scotsman by the name of Fergus Roderick MacLeod who can't actually sew worth a lick. Lucifer's wavelength to Heaven isn't entirely tuned anymore, but he hears human prayers. He can hear the Scotsman's words rather clearly so he often listens. It's not as though it isn't anything he hasn't heard dozens of times before.

He asks to be allowed to speak to his wife again.

God isn't listening.

He asks to be given some sort of sign that she's alright at the very least.

God isn't listening.

He finally stops asking about her and asks for the strength to stop drinking for their son's sake.

God isn't listening.

He's too accustomed to the distraction from her memory it provides. So he asks God to convince his son to leave before he completely loses himself and seriously hurts him.

God isn't listening. And he isn't going to listen.

And the Scotsman finally gives up, taking to drinking more heavily and cursing the Lord's name at every chance he gets.

And Lucifer just chuckles in amusement.

* * *

It isn't until the year 1710 that Lucifer hears something from the Scotsman other than angry curses directed at his Father. It's Latin. He's actually reading a book in Latin. About the occult. Watching some initially righteous God-loving fool reach his breaking point and turn to witchcraft and demon-summoning...it's possibly Lucifer's biggest accomplishment, corrupting his father's stupid little insects. And when he realizes Fergus' plan with a wave of his hand the one demon he trusts with this more than anything appears outside the walls of his cage.

Lilith. His firstborn, the Queen of the Crossroads and mother of all demons.

"What would you have of me, Lord?" she asks, kneeling before him. She appears to him without a meatsuit as the very essence of her inner-demon, a shadow of the human she once was thousands of years ago, and is probably the only demon who could ever safely approach the former archangel in such a disgraceful form. Lucifer needs her to maintain his order for him and disregards her appearance; he made her into what she is, and so she retains a certain sense of beauty in his eyes.

"Crossroads deal. I want you to take the contract personally, Lilith." he replies, tilting his head back and forth to crack his neck as he speaks to her. "A one Fergus Roderick MaCleod, Canisbay, Scotland. Plausibly within the next month or so, maybe even a week if you're lucky."

"Sir?" she asked as though she hadn't heard correctly, her eyes widening a bit. It had been quite a while since Lilith had answered a contract in-person. She held onto the contracts, but there were more than enough lesser demons who answered the summons now.

"Humor me." the archangel replies.

* * *

Lilith complies. Sure enough on the anniversary of his wife's death unbeknownst to his now-teenage son, Fergus summons a crossroads demon whom Lilith intercepts and replaces. Lucifer hears of the whole exchange both through his 'daughter's' mind as well as the Scotsman's.

He asks firstly for most of the same things he asked God for, primarily to be able to contact his wife. Lucifer orders her not to lie to him. Lilith answers that she cannot reach her, that her soul is not in the lower realm and that she doesn't sense it anywhere on Earth.

It's the first piece of closure he's received in the last twelve years since her death with no thanks to a nonexistence god.

Lilith tells him that her services don't come free and that in return for this knowledge that she isn't supposed to be sharing with a human, she expect his soul to belong to her in ten years. Fergus looks down, eyebrows furrowed and answers that he's already read all about the rules of a crossroads deal before sarcastically asking her, "Wot could I possibly ask ye fer, an extra three inches below the belt? Ye kin't bring her back, yer 'o no use ta me."

Lucifer laughs loudly in the back of her mind and encourages her to take him up on that offer before he can retract it. Foolish humans, one didn't just offer a contract to the oldest demon in existence, the keeper of contracts, without expecting it to happen.

"Well, well...then maybe that is what you should wish for, handsome." she replies, giving him a rather Cheshire cat-like grin before cupping a hand under his chin and pulling his lips to hers before the tailor can even comprehend what's going on. She pulls away quickly, letting go of him and taking a step backwards having predicted that a fist was going to be thrown at her. That was how the Scotsman dealt with everything; angrily.

"I'll see you in ten years in that case, darling. Try not to drink yourself stupid before then, alright?"

She vanishes from sight leaving an angry cursing Scotsman in her wake.

* * *

At the end of ten years Lilith sends the hellhounds to collect and Fergus resigns to his fate without trying to fight them off, guiltily mumbling what sounds like some sort of an apology in an indistinguishable language. He's also completely unaware that his son, who is supposed to be in town for another two hours, is peeking into his office from the doorway. Or that his son has fearful tears streaming down his face and he's praying to whoever's-listening in a combination of broken English and the foreign one. A piece of Lucifer actually feels for the boy, having a father who abandons his son. The hellhounds retrieve what they came for and vanish back into the depths of Hell, leaving behind a half-mutilated body and a traumatized son.

* * *

Lucifer decides to generously assign Alastair to the Scotsman, who has continued rambling and cursing angrily since his arrival in the lower plain. Lucifer doesn't hear most of it because Fergus is no longer human and has no means of praying now. In fact he doesn't actually hear his voice again until Alastair has him strung up on a rack and screaming bloody murder.

The archangel decides there's something oddly erotic about listening to the Scotsman's screams broken by curses in the unfamiliar Scottish language. Alastair must think so too, for for every curse he recieves he simply bites back harder.

Twenty years into torture and Fergus has resorted to cursing him out in broken English, Alastair having finally rid him of the ability to speak his mother tongue. And still he refuses, claiming he was cheated into selling his soul and he doesn't owe anyone jack-squat.

It takes another forty years before Alastair finally breaks him and the former Scotsman becomes Lilith's pet.

It's the least the archangel can do for him.


End file.
